


Grammar Class (RttE Epilogue: Dire Straits)

by sarahenany



Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 02:52:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12202431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahenany/pseuds/sarahenany
Summary: "I wouldn't leave you either."But Toothless knows it's not "wouldn't"; it's "didn't."Shameless comforting, because they both need it. Hell, *I* need it!Spoilers for the episode, and won't make sense unless you've seen it. (And if you like drama and/or Hiccup-whump and/or Hicctooth and/or Hiccstrid, I seriously recommend it.)





	Grammar Class (RttE Epilogue: Dire Straits)

There are times Toothless is really glad he knows Norse.

Dragonese – while it’s a perfectly fine language – is simple and clean, without the mess that human languages seem to all share in one form or another: conditionals, helping verbs, subjunctive, auxiliary modal he doesn’t even know what. Things are simpler outside of the complex mess the humans hold at their fingertips. While he has nothing against that complex mess – it’s that complex mess that’s allowed him to take to the skies again, that complex mess that makes his Hiccup create impossible objects that make him stand out from all the other humans on his island – it’s just not built into Dragonese.

So when he’s thinking of what Hiccup said to him under the ocean, in what he thought were his final moments, Toothless is glad of his knowledge of Norse, because Dragonese doesn’t have the capacity to explain.

Hiccup said, “I know, bud. I wouldn’t leave you either.”

_Would not,_ now that’s a construction that’s pure Norse. Dragonese would just say, “I not-leave you.” Or, “I also not-leave you.” In sum, Dragonese wouldn’t allow Toothless to explain a simple fact:

It’s not “I _wouldn’t_ leave you.” It’s “I _didn’t_.”

Being the most selfless human in the Archipelago, and possibly the world, Hiccup tends to remember things others have done for him, while forgetting things he’s done for others. But Toothless won’t – _not-want, not-able, never-do –_ forget. Bolted to a ship’s deck, clamped helpless in a massive wooden frame secured with hasps and padlocks, unable to move as the ship burst into flame… and a fragile human child braving the conflagration to fumble with his locks. Then the terrible trap knocked into the water, Toothless still in the heavy metal frame, knowing this was the end, knowing he was going to drown. Hoping Hiccup would be safe.

The shock as he saw little Hiccup swimming down to struggle with the locks… the knowledge that his soft human hands could never budge the solid oak and iron. The horrified, blind panic as he realized Hiccup would _never_ stop, would die – literally die – trying.

Back then, Toothless did his absolute best to make Hiccup understand, begging him – even as Hiccup begged him earlier today – to “save yourself.” But instead, he was forced to watch as Hiccup asphyxiated. To look on as his small hands went limp, his beloved little fledgling-face went slack, and he drifted away, hair and clothes waving limp in the water.

It’s not that Hiccup _would_ do the same for Toothless. He already _has._

Toothless purrs, cradling Hiccup’s sleeping form. He’s warm now, and smells of _safety relief_ but also of _tired aching need-rest._ After today, he couldn’t sleep without his friend wrapped in his wings, safe between his forepaws and hind legs. Toothless has watched Hiccup drown once, and it destroyed him. He would happily have lived out his life without seeing it a second time. Seeing it today… He shudders.

“Hey, bud.” Hiccup’s voice is raw. “Tough day, huh?”

Toothless can’t keep the grief out of his own voice as he croons in response. Why this stupid sorrow? He should be happy. Hiccup is alive. Predators don’t do might-have-beens. Dragonese doesn’t even have a tense for might-have-been.

Maybe, Toothless thinks, he’s not fully a dragon anymore. Because his heart burns with might-have-beens. Every time he sees Hiccup nearly dying, every time he sees him hurt, is a time he can't sleep at night, chest cold and tight as if his heart-fire is extinguished. And today – Hiccup’s desperate face, trapped in a thing that Toothless was helpless to dislodge – his calm acceptance of his own death – well, if dragons could cry, Hiccup would have to find another place to sleep, because he’d be soaked. Toothless shakes his head, closing his eyes tight.

“Hey.” Hiccup tries to shift upwards in Toothless’ embrace, to touch more of his head. “Tooth—Toothless.” The human’s eyes meet his. Toothless flinches. Hiccup sees into his heart, his green gaze missing nothing. He smells of _understanding acceptance comfort love._ Toothless can’t hold the stare, and ducks his head, muttering. Hiccup is the one who needs to be comforted, not to see a disgrace to dragonhood ruminating like a yak over what-ifs, which is a human failing in the first place, he couldn’t help Hiccup, fat lot of good being a dragon did him, he—

“Hey. _Hey.”_

Toothless blinks back up at Hiccup. That unnervingly perceptive gaze is soft with understanding. “I know. I know. I felt the same way.”

And Toothless stills.

Hiccup understands. Because he’s been there.

Toothless may have seen Hiccup drown twice… but Toothless isn’t the only one who knows what it is to be helpless. To stay by the side of a friend you can’t save from drowning.

He grunts, conceding, and nuzzles Hiccup. Who isn’t finished. “Bud, I’m so tired, I don’t know how long I can talk…”

_Then don’t._ Toothless gently pushes Hiccup’s head down.

“No, just hear me out. How do you think I felt? Huh? Knowing you were going to drown because I’d messed up?”

Toothless shakes his head. He doesn’t think Hiccup messed up.

Hiccup breathes a soft chuckle. “Yeah, okay. But… I couldn’t get you out.” His beloved, familiar voice cracks. “Nothing I did was enough. I couldn't unlock it, no matter how hard I tried. And I knew I _couldn’t get you out.”_ He’s trembling as the tears come.

_Hey. Worry about yourself, idiot. I’m fine._ Toothless would smack him with his tail, but Hiccup is fragile as a Wind-Rider eggshell, shaking in his wings’ embrace, so he settles for a decisive huff. Then he nuzzles his friend. _I’m here. I’m fine. You’re fine._

“I know. It’s just hard s—some… Okay, hey. Let me up.” Still shaking, but determined, Hiccup hitches himself up in Toothless’ arms. Mystified, the dragon lets him. His scent is still _aching tired_ but also _love determination._

Hiccup lets Toothless help pack pillows under his back, and ends up half-propped against the wall. He pats his chest. “Rest your head here,” he instructs, “and don’t crush me, I need to breathe.”

Toothless couldn’t be more careful if he were pressing his head to a hatchling. In fact, he’s so careful that Hiccup has to hold his head and pull it down harder. Then he takes hold of Toothless’ ear-flap, and with gentle fingers, guides the sensitive back side of it flat down against his solar plexus.

Pressed against Hiccup’s chest, Toothless’ ear-nubs are in direct contact with his human’s skin, separated only by a thin layer of linen. He can hear the rushing of Hiccup’s blood, hear the steady softness of his breathing, the _thump-thump-thump_ of Hiccup’s heart a drumbeat in the background. A whimper escapes his throat. His joints feel like water. Hiccup’s _alive._

Soft, small fingernails scratch at the top of his head. “Atta boy,” Hiccup murmurs lovingly, his voice making his bony chest vibrate. It makes Toothless tremble. “I’m here,” he goes on softly, his ribcage a musical instrument.

Toothless finds a thin sound escaping his throat. Hiccup’s hand rubs his ear-flap, his other arm coming round Toothless’ head and tugging him close, closer, welding them together, and then he just starts stroking rhythmically in time to the aching relief of his strong, steady heartbeat. “I know, bud.” His voice is softer now, darker; his scent says _fear, regret._ “Believe me, I know.”

Toothless lets out a questioning whine. He can’t recall Hiccup ever not saving him.

“Every time you’re in danger, bud,” Hiccup murmurs. “Every time you're captured. Every time you're hurt. I thought I'd go crazy when they made you fight that Razorwhip. When you were shot with that dragon-root arrow. I’d have taken it myself instead of watching you go through it.”

At that, Toothless lifts his head up off Hiccup’s chest and glares. Take an arrow, indeed. But Hiccup takes a ragged breath, _tired aching touched-death,_ and Toothless gently licks his face instead, careful to avoid his nose and mouth. After today, he doesn’t think he can ever get enough of Hiccup’s breathing.

Hiccup just half-smiles. “I’m serious. It would have hurt less.”

Toothless just licks him again. Then he lifts a wing to cover Hiccup. He chirrs at him. _Rest._

Hiccup’s face breaks into a genuine grin. “Okay, Mr. Bossy,” His hand scratches Toothless’ head steadily. “You too?”

Toothless nods. He’s not sure what he’ll see when he closes his eyes, but he will try to sleep.

And Hiccup, damn him, understands that too. “That’s why I want you to stay right here,” he murmurs.

Toothless raises his head in alarm. _But your breathing—_

“I’ll be fine.”

_No you won’t._ This is an argument Hiccup’s not going to win: his already strained chest can’t deal with the weight of a Night Fury's head on him all night long. Accompanying his words with movements, Toothless instructs _Turn on your side._

“Toothless, I really—”

Toothless isn’t above using puppy-dog eyes when he has to. He looks beseechingly up at Hiccup, not hard since his head is already resting on Hiccup’s chest. _Please? For me?_

“You are a blackmailer,” Hiccup grouses, “you know that?” But he turns onto his side, adjusting the pillow so his head is comfortable. Toothless pulls the blanket over him, since in this position he won’t be able to wrap him in his wings. “Now what, you overprotective rep—Oh…” Toothless scoots down like a much smaller creature, and shuffles around awkwardly until his head is resting sideways against Hiccup’s chest to feel his heartbeat again, and feels healed.

Hiccup’s scent registers _amusement._ “You sure you’re comfortable like that, big baby?”

Toothless purrs in response. Then there’s such an overwhelming wave of _adoration_ from Hiccup that the dragon trembles. “Toothless…” The human’s hands aren’t all that steady as they cling to Toothless’ head. “Bud…”

Toothless licks Hiccup’s arm, looking up into his eyes. _I know._

Hiccup lets out a long, huffing breath. “Yeah. Yeah.” He takes a deep breath. “Maybe less risk, at least for a while, huh? What do you say, bud?”

Toothless lets out a warble. _I’m with you on that._ He snorts and licks Hiccup’s chin. _Idiot._

Instead of wiping off his chin, Hiccup rests it on the top of Toothless’ head, puts his arms round him, and blows out the candle. “Thank you for not leaving me,” he says into the darkness. _Thump, thump, thump,_ his heartbeat says. _Love you,_ says his scent. _Love you,_ say his arms. “Although I wanted you to,” Hiccup says aloud. “Stubborn lizard.”

Toothless just snorts.


End file.
